


didn't mean to be cruel

by R_Gunns



Series: lay down next to your boots and pray [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Butt Plugs, Cock Warming, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Gaslighting, HYDRA Trash Party, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Puppy Play, Sub Steve Rogers, Tranquilizers, light humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-15 15:16:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2233770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_Gunns/pseuds/R_Gunns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So," Garret says after recovering a little, "You gonna elaborate on how you got Rogers lookin' like that? I wouldn't be surprised if he was drawing hearts around your name with the way he's lookin' at you at this point." Which makes Brock's smirk widen into a full-blown grin.</p><p>For a prompt on the trashmeme for Rumlow seducing Steve into a Dom/Sub relationship so he can manipulate him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not gonna write a full fic for this 'cause I got other stuff I'm writing, but here are a few snippets from the boots & pray universe. Not betaed.
> 
> Come say hi on [Tumblr!](http://gunsintheground.tumblr.com)

Brock kisses away the frown on Rogers’ face and runs a hand through his hair.

“You can take it out whenever you want Steve,” he says, though he knows he won’t, then adds “I won’t be disappointed,” in a voice that ensures Steve knows he will be. Steve nods and turns his head into Brock’s palm, pressing a kiss there. Then he goes and takes some lube and a plug from the chest of drawers and drops it onto the bed, climbs on after it and pushes his uniform pants down past his thighs. He lowers his chest to bed covers, his face tilted to one side and his hands behind his back. Brock has to pause for a second to marvel at how far he’s come -just a few months ago Steve hadn’t even known what subbing _was_ , and now look at him, he'll do practically anything Brock asks- he’s a goddamn natural.

He's pulled away from his thoughts when Steve lifts his head enough to catch Brock's gaze, silently asking for him to hurry the fuck up. Which isn't allowed, and Steve knows it, which only means-- _huh_. He'd only really started caning him for the thrill of it, making him bruise and bleed and Steve just taking it without much more than a whimper, just because Brock asked him to. And now, seeing the way Steve watches him with full awareness in his eyes, he thinks that maybe Steve agreed for more selfish reasons than just wanting to please Brock. With that in mind, he moves towards the bed.

"I'm not even gonna tell you what you did because I know you know," he grunts as he pushes Steve's face into the pillows. He holds it there for a good half a minute before letting go and moving around the bed till he can spread his hands out across the cheeks of Steve's ass. He listens to him pant for a few seconds, then hits him across the thighs as hard as he can just to hear Steve's breath catch.

"All right, we'll stick with the plan, but don't think you're getting away without punishment. We'll talk about that later when you get home." He says it while he uncaps the lube, coating his fingers and pushing two in without warning. Steve grunts, but doesn't say anything. Brock spends a few minutes stretching him open, avoiding his prostate for the most part; this isn't about Steve's pleasure.

After a little while he picks up the plug (one of the bigger ones, he notes. Maybe he's onto something with the caning, Steve certainly always takes the more uncomfortable option he's given) and slicks it up, pressing into him and twisting, he strokes Steve's flank soothingly till he gets it past the widest bit and the flared end sits flush against his skin. Then he pulls up Steve's pants and smacks his ass, "C'mon, up you get," helps maneuver Steve till he's standing, glassy-eyed like he always gets when he's on the verge of checking out.

He taps Steve's face a few times, "No no, you've got work, snap out of it-- there you go, that's good. Good boy, you ready?" he says as Steve's eyes clear and he visibly shakes himself, setting aside that mind space for later.

His voice is clear and steady when he says "I'm good sir." Brock nods and pets his hair how Steve likes it, then makes a shooing motion with one hand.

"I'll see you after work baby. Have fun."

He notices as he leaves that Steve's stance is a little wider than usual to accommodate the plug, his gait slightly bow-legged. Brock's pants are unzipped the second the door clicks shut.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thing that Steve wears in the fic is [ this](http://www.amazon.com/Rapture-Wrist-Restraint-Spreader-Package/dp/B00HZ5IJHY/ref=sr_1_2?s=hpc&ie=UTF8&qid=1409969199&sr=1-2) (very nsfw image)

He's sitting around with some other HYDRA agents waiting for a debrief, bored and itching to be done with the mission when one of the guys- Shane, perks up a little.

"Hey, you got any new stories about Rogers?" he asks. The other half a dozen heads in the van turn towards him and they settle down like its fucking story time.

"Man you guys get off on gossip like old women." Brock grumbles at them, rolling his eyes when one of the guys says,

"It's not _gossip_ we're getting off on," and they all laugh.

“All right, all right. Well you’re in for a treat anyway, ‘cause I’ve got pictures this time,” he adds, and suddenly every one of them is sitting up and paying attention.  Brock pulls his phone from his pocket, bringing up his photos and passes it to Shane, who puts a hand to his heart, eyes wide.

" _Holy_ fuck. Jesus, how did you--" he pauses when Garret, next to him, makes a grab for the phone, "Fuck off, give me a second to digest this man." he swipes through the photos, reaching a hand down casually to adjust himself before handing it over to Garret who chokes on his spit. The rest of their reactions are much the same; some of them laugh, one of the guys starts humming _[pretty young thing.](http://youtu.be/VYXqwbtkkeM)_  

When the phone is given back to him, he stares down at the pictures for a second, smirking. They really are something. It had taken him _months_ of careful planning to get Rogers to let him take pictures (which mostly involved a lot of dirty talk about doing it and positive reinforcement in the from of praise and his dick, so not a total hardship) and it was goddamn worth it.

The pictures in question were taken from above, looking down to where Rogers had his mouth stretched wide around Brock's dick, his pretty fucking eyes glazed but wide open on his insistence. The tear streaks on his cheeks had mixed with the come Brock had smeared on his face, and he's looking up at him like he hung the fucking moon. There isn't much different in the other pictures besides a slight angle change, but they're absolutely enough to get him -and by the looks of it everyone who looks at them- off.

"So," Garret says after recovering a little, "You gonna elaborate on how you got Rogers lookin' like that? I wouldn't be surprised if he was drawing hearts around your name with the way he's lookin' at you at this point." Which makes Brock's smirk widen into a full-blown grin.

"It gets better," he says, then walks them through it.

\--

Somewhere along the way Steve must start to actually pay attention to the crap he spouts while Brock's fucking him-- mostly all talk, plus a little bit of _good boy_ here and there to keep him happy, but it isn't until Steve curls around him to sleep one night and asks him what it means to be a  _cock-warmer_ that he catches on. Pretty fucking fast. So he explains it and watches Steve's expression go contemplative, before he'd nodded and mumbled a  _maybe_ and that was that.

 

It wasn't till a few weeks later that they actually did anything. Steve had been arguing with Stark or something; he comes in with a tight jaw and tense muscles, sits at Brock's feet without any prompting and asks,

"Can we do the-- what we talked about--" And, well. Far be it from him to keep Captain America from what he wants. So he settles a hand on the back of his neck and scratches at his nape for a bit, then says,

"Sure Steve, we can do that. I've got some work to do, so perfect timing." he gets to his feet and pulls Steve with him to the bedroom. He sits on the bed and watches appreciatively while Steve strips and throws his clothes on the desk chair- a clear sign of what mindset he's currently in. Once he's done, he goes to the drawers and takes out what Brock tells him to, then comes to kneel by the side of the bed.

Brock sorts through the pile of stuff for what he wants, a heavy metal collar, nothing that Steve couldn't break through if he needed, but helps with the illusion. He fastens it around his neck, notes the way Rogers shoulders slump a little. Then two cuffs are fastened around his wrists, and those to a bar that lays horizontally to his chest with a chain that then attaches to the D-ring on the collar.  The end result is his hands held up in front of his shoulders-- trying to move them would only result in Steve pulling his neck forward with them.

Then he grabs the ankle cuffs, puts them on and attaches the spreader bar between them. It's the longer one, keeps a good three feet or so between his ankles (which ensures that, even with the serum, after a few hours of kneeling his legs will be shaking with the effort of keeping himself upright). Then he goes to sit on his desk chair, motioning for Steve to follow. He does, albeit slowly, the restraints limiting him to a slow shuffle on his knees.

"Good boy," he says when Steve stops in front of him, and he helps maneuver him till he's mostly under the desk. "There we are, that's good baby, real good." he keeps up a litany of praise while he unzips his pants, settling Steve between his legs and pushing his dick between his lips. His hips jump once in anticipation, but he bites his tongue and forces himself to think of other things-- he wants to draw this out.

He strokes a thumb down Steve's jaw and over his mouth, pressing in alongside his dick just to see his lips stretch to accommodate them both. Brock smiles down at him and catches his eyes, tells him,

"You aren't allowed to close them, okay? I wanna be able to see your eyes whenever I look down at you." Then he shifts forward a little, and starts on the paperwork he's been procrastinating.

It's a sweet kind of hell, is what it is. He's halfway hard within five minutes, the thought of keeping Rogers down there for hours getting him going even more so than his actual mouth on Brock's dick. He does manage to put the thought aside for a good forty minutes while he fills out paperwork by thinking of an upcoming meeting he has with Fury, though. Who, speak of the fucking devil, texts him that he wants to conference call, asap. Brock looks down at Rogers, eyes still unwavering, though they are less focused now, his jaw slack. He shows him the text and watches as he slowly registers it.

"You okay if I?" he asks, then fights a grin when Steve sort-of nods without taking his mouth of off his dick. He probably wasn't even aware of what he was agreeing to.

Brock slides forward on his chair (hears the muffled sound of Steve choking a little), then opens his laptop. Which is simultaneously the best and _worst_ idea he's ever had; the very fact that he's talking business with Fury while Steve Rogers is under the table naked and taking his dick is making him dizzy with how turned on he is. But the fact that all he wants to do now is fuck Rogers' throat but has to sit and listen to Fury for another fifteen minutes is  _killing_ him. It also doesn't help that Steve is apparently taking initiative now, curling his tongue and swallowing down Brock as much as he can. 

When _finally_ Fury finishes with him and signs off, the second he does Brock reaches both hands down to thread through Steve's hair, tugging and scratching at his scalp while Steve apparently does his best to bring him off as fast as he can. It doesn't take long before he's grunting and coming, pulling out just enough to cover Steve's face in it. Instead of moving back though he stays put-- gives himself half a minute to make sure he's not over-sensitive before pushing back into Steve's mouth. Steve doesn't question it, pliant as ever. He says,

"I'm so _so_ proud of you baby," and watches with something close to awe as Steve's whole body goes slack, his eyes welling up with tears while he _comes_ , without being touched at all. Brock hesitates for all of a second, genuinely shocked, before he snatches his phone from the table and takes a few photos before the moment passes. Steve blinks a little but doesn't look aware enough to argue.

They still don't move for a good half hour after that since Brock genuinely does have work he needs to be doing, and if Steve isn't tapping out (not that he ever does) then he won't either. He must be pretty uncomfortable at this point; come dried on his abdomen and face, and the way he's restrained doesn't lend itself to a sustainable position, but he holds it without so much as a whine.

Once he's finished his work he pulls out and stands up, going to the bathroom to brush his teeth and strip for bed before he goes back to Steve. He helps him out from under the desk and out of the restraints, pausing to rub at the already fading bruises on his wrists. Then he pulls Steve up and over to the bed where he cleans him up then settles down against him to sleep.

\--

The guys stay silent for the most part while he recalls the memory, only adding the odd quip about how whipped Rogers was, or to laugh a little, but once he finishes, Shane claps him on the shoulder.

"God _damn_ , Rumlow, when are we gonna get in on that?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after the elevator scene. New tags added.

Pierce entered the room with a flurry of techs behind him, tripping over themselves to explain what was going on. He held up a hand to silence them, then turned towards Brock.

"Rumlow, would you explain to me why I am currently unable to speak to Rogers-- without the bullshit please." he says, even as he turns towards where Steve is sat at the interrogation table, coming to stand in front of him.

"Ah, a combination of things sir. The-- what you asked me to do with him worked to an extent, but he was also given a heavy dose of tranquilizer on top of that to ensure he wouldn't fight if he started to come out of the head space. Shouldn't take long to wear off, but until then," he trails off, gesturing towards Steve. There really isn't any way they are getting anything useful out of him right now; he's slumped in his seat and listing ever so slightly to the side, his jaw slack and his lips parted enough that Brock thinks he'll probably start drooling fairly soon.

Pierce scrutinized Rogers for a second, grabbing his chin and lifting his head a little so that he could check himself before apparently deeming him useless, for now. He steps back, nodding at the other men in the room then turning back to Brock.

"Fine. I'll be back at 2100, do whatever you want with him till then," he says, and then leaves the room, the door clicking shut behind him. The silence that follows lasts maybe half a minute, all of them collectively holding their breath, eyes on Rogers.

"So," a big guy, Gunney, says finally, "You gonna show us some of the tricks you taught him?" That apparently sets the rest of them off, and they crowd forward around the table, twitchy and excited. Brock huffs a laugh and shoves them out of the way, manhandles Steve into standing.

"C'mon baby, up you get. _Hey_ ," he puts a hand on his cheek when Steve makes a noise in the back of his throat, finally becoming aware of the other men in the room, "Hey, look at _me_ , there we are-- I just wanna show them how good you are, okay? You going to be good for me?"  Steve sort-of nods, blushing prettily, and a couple of the guys laugh. It really is incredible how easy this has been. He's not deluded enough to think he could break down Steve enough that he'd forget his morals (and his dignity), but the tranq on top of everything else is just enough to tip him over the edge.

"It really wasn't that hard," he says conversationally as he begins to unbutton Steve's shirt, "You just gotta be sweet to him, and he folds for it every damn time. He'll do whatever you want-- won't you Stevie?" He adds, slipping the shirt from Steve's shoulders and reaching for his pants. Steve doesn't answer, but that's fine because he knows the answer anyway.

"Like a dog?" Gunney asks from the other side of the table. Brock pulls Steve's pants and underwear down around his ankles, helping step out of them and tugging him towards the table to maneuver him until he climbs up, settling on all fours. Brock strokes a hand down the curve of Steve's spine and grins at the soft whine he makes in response.

" _Exactly_ like a dog."

Brock notes that most of the guys in the room are already having to adjust themselves, and he gets it; the first time Steve had spread his legs and said ' _I need you to come in me_ ' Brock had almost busted a nut there and then. And he hadn't even had the added pleasure of Steve doing it in front of group of other people, so he completely understands.

No one makes a move towards Steve though, and while it's flattering that they are probably doing it out of respect for Brock, this is probably their only chance to do something like this, so he waves a hand at Gunney before settling back against the wall with his arms crossed.

"Get the fuck on with it then, we ain't got all day."

Gunney takes it as the permission it is, holding out a hand towards Steve, palm up.

"Come here puppy," he says, half kidding and-- _huh_. They'd never done anything like that before, not beyond his usual 'good boy' but Steve full-body  _shivers_ at the word, his dick becoming fully hard as he crawls across the table toward Gunneywith all the grace he possesses (which is a lot, actually. Only Steve fuckin' Rogers could crawl naked across a table and still look powerful while he does it). They watch Steve nuzzle at Gunney's hand while he praises him, then Shane snorts.

"So that's the weirdest thing I ever saw. Was that your input?" he asks Brock, who shakes his head.

"Nope, that's _all_ him. I told you it didn't take much persuading to get him to do this shit, he fuckin' loves it."

Steve punctuates that with a long whine and Brock looks back over to see Gunney pulling Steve's mouth down on his dick with one hand threaded through his hair, the other stroking down the expanse of his back with the same firmness of petting a dog. Seemed like Gunney was sort of into the dog thing too. Some of the guys already have their pants unzipped and their hands on their dicks, but Shane just tilts his head a little, eyes wide, while Steve goes lower and _lower_ till his nose is pressed up against Gunney's pubes.

"You train the gag reflex out of him too?" he asks, but before Brock can tell him it's a perk of the serum, Gunney grunts,

"Jesus would you shut the fuck up? I can't deal with you talking shit behind me, just come fuck his ass or something."

It takes all of five seconds for Shane to register what he said then hop up on the table behind Rogers, resting both hands on his ass with a kind of reverence.

"Don't mind if I do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /sighs at self. Unfortunately my focus didn't stay with me long enough to write the actual fucking, my bad.


End file.
